The Farmboy and the Wolf
by SpaceGrif
Summary: Nolan Porfirio has lived on the farm most of his life, with his mother and siblings. But the world of Remnant is a cruel one, and in the shadows lurk dark beasts, who live for the sole reason to destroy all that he knows.
_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BE-_

Nolan Porfirio sighed, leaning up in his bed and rubbing his eyes. He swung his legs over the edge of his small bed, stretching and yawning, before shutting off his alarm, before standing up and continuing his morning routine.

Drawing a simple pair of jeans and a T-shirt from his small closet, he exited his room, shutting the door behind him, and continued on his way, walking through the rickety old farmhouse to the only bathroom, careful to be as quiet as he could.

The bathroom was a simple affair, only a toilet, a bathtub with a rusty shower head, and a sink that was missing several pieces. The entire thing was lit only by a small window, which only showed the shadowy plains around the farm, and a single lightbulb, hanging from the ceiling.

He walked over to the tub and twisted the nob, waiting to hear the familiar rush of water coming through the leaky pipes. None came, however, and Nolan sighed, running a hand through his greasy dark red hair.

"Water's off again." he sighed. They lived on a relatively poor farm, barely enough land to sustain their family, consisting of his mother and 6 younger siblings, of which Nolan was the first. As such, amenities were rare in their household, with even showers being a rare luxury.

Unwashed, Nolan put on his stained T-shirt and ripped, patched jeans, and walked down the old stairs to the bottom floor, where the kitchen and family room were, snatching up one of his few personal possessions, a cheap pair of sunglasses the same color of pink as his eyes, on the way.

His kitchen was a hodge-podge affair, with barely enough room for the icebox and wood-fuel stove. The tiles on the floor were scratched and dulled, and in dire need of replacement. The counter-tops were made of a cheap marble imitation, and was stained in multiple places. Dishes from the previous night were still stacked in the sink.

His mother, a tall, slim woman by the name of Verbena Porfirio, stood in the middle of the mess, her bright orange hair tied in a messy bun, hurriedly putting on her uniform, a simple blue suit with a yellow scarf. When Nolan entered the kitchen, she swung around, turning her dark blue eyes on him.

"Good morning, Nolan." she said, as she finished tying her scarf. She turned and began fiddling with her make-up, staring into a mirror hanging on the nearby wall. "Mommy's gotta go to a meeting, okay? I won't be back until late." she said.

"Okay, mom." Nolan replied, rummaging around their sparse pantry for the cereal.

"So make sure Lotus and Magenta get their medication, okay? You know how they are if they don't get them."

"Yes, mom." Nolan sighed, pouring a bowl of Pumpkin Pete's into a bowl, along with some milk.

"And I want you to walk Farah to the bus stop. I don't want her walking alone. And if you take your eyes off her, I'll…"

" _I get it, mom."_ Nolan groaned in exasperation. Really, his mom's dotting and need to endlessly repeat every single instruction, which he did every day anyways, could get on his nerves.

Undaunted, Verbena continued. "And there's also some weeds growing in the garden, so you need to pick those. And…"

"And water the plants, and milk the cows, and tuck the kids into bed, sing Magenta a bedtime story, make sure everybody brushes their teeth, yeah, yeah. Mom, I get it. You don't need to treat me like a baby."

Verbena finished doing her make-up, turning and smiling at her son. "I know you do, hun." she said. She walked forward and took her son's face in her hands, turning and looking at him. "But you know how I am. I worry." she whispered. "I'm away from you guys so long, and every moment, I just can't help but think the worst."

She leaned down and placed a tender kiss on Nolan's forehead. "I know you can handle it. Just like your father always could."

She held Nolan in an embrace for a few seconds longer, before breaking it, turning and hastily picking up her suitcase. "I've got to go, or I'll be late. See you tonight. I love you." she said over her shoulder as she walked out the screen door.

Nolan watched his mother go, driving down the old dirt road in her rusted old car, before turning and eating his bowl of cereal, shoveling the milk and cereal into his mouth. Once that was done, he began doing the dishes, washing and scrubbing them all, putting them away. He set some aside, however, to be used as bowls for the rest of the children. Once that was done, he went to the window and waited, as he always did, for the sun to come up.

He surveyed the lands outside his farm, smiling. They lived far enough outside the perimeters of Vacuo to be considered "Foresters" but just close enough to be spared from the majority of Grimm. Bright green trees stretched for miles around them, a forest of immense beauty, as far as Nolan was concerned. The stars out in this wilderness covered the sky, shining little pin-pricks of light in the hours of twilight before dawn.

Eventually, the dark sky began to lighten, the amber lights of the sun stretching like rivers over the sky. The stars began to flicker out, driven away by the rising sun.

It was then that the rest of the family began to wake up: first, the young twins Lotus and Magenta: Both 10-years old, with long, black hair and bright eyes that were the same deep shade of blue as their mother's, rather than the dull pink of Nolan's own, inherited from his father. Their faces were still young, with a slight bit of baby-fat, although beginning to show hints of the same angular, feline features as their mother. They were as close as you could get, but being together often made them...brash. They wore the same wheat-colored nightgowns, hand-me-downs from their older sibling. They sat down silently, still half-asleep.

Next was Rouge: a fiery girl, two years younger than Nolan, with dark red hair and the eyes, although they were brighter than Nolan's, practically glowing even in the dark.

" 'Sup, bro?" she asked, yawning and scratching her head, before taking her bowl.

Finally came Lee and Grant, two brothers, the former 12, the latter 11. Though they were brothers, they couldn't be more different: Lee was tall, with bright blue bangs framing an angular face and dark pink, almost red, eyes. He was already strong for his age, the lengthening of limbs and awkward proportions brought on by an early growth spurt, and already helped Nolan on the land.

Grant, meanwhile, was shorter and leaner, and had short-cropped orange hair and bright blue eyes. His leanness meant that he was not as strong as his brother, but he made up for it with his cunning. He and nick bickered constantly, but when push came to shove, the two were stalwart friends.

The youngest of them, Farah, was still sleeping, but Nolan decided to let her rest, for the long day at school ahead. They, as always, were bickering about some minor occurrence between them, but as always, they sat directly next to each other.

The family idly talked about their plans for the day as they ate: most of them attended the same school, with only Farah studying in a different building. Nolan could only feel pity for the poor teachers at their school: he alone had nearly driven his teachers insane. Four more would probably make the majority of them try and quit.

After breakfast was done, the kids began leaving for school, walking down the road to be picked up by their bus. Rouge, as always, left early, with Lotus and Magenta on her heel, holding their hands. Five minutes later, Grant and Lee left, their latest problem finally resolved.

It was only then that the youngest, Farah, woke up, edging around the corner to the kitchen and sitting at the table, quiet as a mouse. "Hi." she said.

Nolan turned around, smiling at the puny girl. "Hey, kiddo." he said, ruffling her hair. ""Ready for your first day at school?"

Farah emphatically shook her head, and Nolan's smile dampened a bit. "No? Don't you want to make some friends?"

Farah shrugged, her eyes, the exact same shade as his, staring at her shoes.

Nolan sighed, standing up and giving her a bowl of cereal. "Come on. You're gonna need your energy.

Half-heartedly, she picked up the spoon and began eating her cereal, moving as slow as possible. Eventually, she finished, and Nolan took her plate, and handed her the backpack. A bright pink leather backpack, with shiny metal clasps and a brand new notebook inside. Their mother had saved for months to get her this bag, determined to give her youngest the best. Combined with her floral dress, and Farah did not look half as poor as their family was.

Eventually, the time came to go, and, gripping her older brother's hand, the two left, heading down the dirt road to the bus stop.

The two were silent most of the way, until they reached the bus-stop, when Farah spoke up.

"Nolan?"

"Yeah?"

The little girl shook a moment, looking up at her brother. "What if they don't like me?"

Nolan frowned, staring back down at her. "Why wouldn't they like you?"

"Because we don't have any money." she answered.

Nolan was silent, thinker her answer over. Finally, he turned to her, kneeling down and staring her straight in the eyes. "Farah, just 'cause we don't have much money doesn't mean people won't like you. If they really wanna be your friends, they'll understand, okay?"

Farah sniffed and wiped her eyes, nodding.

"Okay." Nolan said. He smiled, and gave his younger sister a hug, as the bus, a gray-colored, two-tiered behemoth, rolled up, the holographic signs on it's sides reading [TO: TORCHLIGHT PRIMARY].

Farah turned and walked up the stairs, taking a seat to the window. Nolan smiled as he watched the bus roll away, before standing from where he crouched and, turning back to the dirt road, walked away.

…..

Nolan opened the door to the house, letting it slowly ease shut behind him. He walked to the family's family room and sat down on the old, ripped couch, leaning back and basking in the silence. Normally, the house would be practically shaking with the volume of all the children, but with the onset of school Nolan was here all on his lonesome.

Time slowly ticked by as he sat there, simply enjoying the quiet, before standing up and beginning to do his daily routine of chores.

First, he had to take care of the animals. Picking up a bucket off one of the hooks next to the door, he strode outside, walking towards the family pasture. A large field of open grass surrounded by a plain wooden fence, the pasture contained a dozen cattle: eleven cows and a bull, nicknamed "Horny" by the innocent little Farah, who had gotten the honor of naming him. It had made both Nolan and his mother blush awkwardly, while

 _The name isn't exactly_ _wrong._ Nolan thought, as the massive bull swiveled its head towards him, giving him a full view of the two massive horns protruding from the sides of his head, rising at right angles.

He shut the gate behind him, and walked up to one of the cows, the bull going back to his grazing. He sat down on the stool he had grabbed from the fence,and , placing the bucket under the cow's udders, began to milk her, jets of milk landing with little _pling_ s into the bucket. The cow, meanwhile, simply continued chewing cud as though nothing was happening.

He did this to several other cows in the pasture. Once the bucket was full, Nolan picked up both the bucket and the stool and began walking back to the gate. Before he left, however, something caught his attention: Horny the Bull snorted and snuffled agitatedly, swinging his wide head to and fro. His hooves stamped the ground, ripping up dirt and grass, and he gouged the earth with his tusks?

Nolan stood still, shocked at this sudden and rapid change in behavior. The bull was normally stoic, and rarely acted like this.

 _What's making him so mad?_ Nolan wondered, following the bull's gaze to the edge of the sparse forest. Even in the morning light, the forest was still shrouded in shadow, concealing many things beyond its treeline.

Regardless, the bull pawed the ground, and, turning, walked towards the middle of the pasture, where there was a massive, hundred-year old oak tree, whos branches provided shade in the hot summers and shelter during winter. The cows and calves followed him, huddling together under the tree.

Slowly, carefully, Nolan walked back to the house, making sure to keep himself from shaking. He felt a strange, irrational fear when he looked at the forest: it was almost as though something was watching him, waiting for it's time to strike. He stepped up onto the porch, turning and opening the screen door...but, out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement, like a shadow drifting across his line of sight. When he whirled around, eyes scanning for the source, however, he saw nothing out of place anywhere.

Reluctantly, he turned around, opening the door, the lingering feeling of being watched remaining. He walked inside, although the light around the house seemed considerable...subdued, now.

He continued doing his chores, sweeping the floors, folding the clothes drying on the line, and a myriad of other things, but the entire time, his mind kept drifting to the image of the cows huddling together under the tree, and of the vague shadow he had seen.

He attempted to rationalize it, hoping above all hope that it wasn't what he thought it was. Maybe the animals just smelled something on the wind. Maybe he was just tired, the heat and sun playing tricks on his mind. Maybe it was just him being skittish. But, if he was being honest with himself, none of these options seemed like anything more than far-flung hope.

So it was that he decided to be prepared, in case something happened, and to preempt any encounter. He walked up the stairs to the second floor of the house, his booted feet thudding up the wooden stairs. In front of him was a long hallway, lined with doors leading to various bedrooms, including his, at the very back. He walked past all of these, however, and instead came to the end of the hall. Nolan looked up, and, gripping a small, inconspicuous string, pulled down, revealing a faint, square outline in the ceiling. It came down, and a ladder slowly folded down, landing just in front of Nolan. Gripping the sides and pulling himself up, Nolan hauled himself into the house's small, cramped, dusty attic. Boxes filled much of the space to the brim, while a small shutter allowed some small light to leak into the room.

Nolan stood, hunched due to the relative shortness of the ceiling, and edged forward, closer the the end. At the end of the room, there was a long, wooden chest, carved with a stylized flower, with a Dust crystal in the center. He reached down and pressed his palm against it, focusing his Aura on it.

The attic lit with a faint violet glow, radiating from the crystal. Mechanism in the chest stirred and creaked, locks and bolts opening. The chest creaked open, revealing, among a folded piece of cloth, a simple, double-barreled shotgun, the metal polished and the wooden grip and handle well-kept.

Nolan picked up this shotgun, testing its weight, and flipped open the break. He reached deeper into the chest, taking out six shells. He put two of them in each pocket, and put the final pair into the gun, snapping it closed.

He clambered back down the stairs, lifting the ladder back up and slamming the entrance closed. He then went back down the stairs, going outside and shutting the door behind him.

The wind softly rustled, the trees bending slightly. No other sound was heard, however: no mockingbirds whistled their songs, no crickets played their tune, nothing. Most terrifying of all, however, was the nagging feeling at the back of his head that _something_ was wrong, and the inherent helplessness that came with it.

He crept out, to the middle of the field, the shotgun nestled into the crook of his shoulder, waiting. He allowed his vision to expand, allowing many of the lessons his father had given him to take full effect. Not focusing on any one place for any amount of time, he instead let his gaze slowly roam over the landscape, occasionally flickering back to a spot he had just scanned in order to see if anything decided to move while he wasn't looking.

All the while, he crept slowly farther into the field, turning in slow circles, his breath hitched in his throat.

Suddenly, a deep growl came from behind him, in the forest. He spun around, levelling the shotgun at the forest, and backing away. Shadows moved and writhed inside the shrubs, and out from it came a creature. It was short, only about 4 and a half feet at the shoulder. It made up for this, however, in length, with a long tail and protruding, white head, with strong, clamping jaws. It had two thick legs ending in bone-white claws, contrasting with the rest of it's body, which was covered in a black fur. Blood-red patterns traced their way through it's bony white skull plate, leading to orange and red eyes that burned with hate.

A creature of Grimm, a dark monster dedicated to wiping out humanity.

Nolan backed away, his heart beating in his ears. The Grimm, a "Creep" as he recalled being mentioned in one of his classes, swiveled its head, turning its gaze upon Nolan.

Nolan backed away, aiming the shotgun at the creature. It turned one eye on him, and, growling, walked forward, snapping it's jaws. Nolan waited, until the Creep, giving a single, guttural screech, charged toward him, crossing the distance in an impossibly short amount of time. It leapt at him, and Nolan pulled both triggers, launching several slugs into the Grimm's body. IT gave a howl of pain, but it's momentum carried it forward, and Nolan had to roll out of the way to avoid those jaws.

When he rolled back to his feet, the Creep was struggling, and failing, to get up. One slug had torn through it belly, while the other hit the leg. Black blood streamed from both wounds, and the Creep's jaws snapped and foamed in a pained frenzy.

Nolan unloaded the spent cartridges, inserting two new ones. He stood a good distance back from the Grimm, aiming the gun carefully. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the trigger. The gun once again bucked against his shoulder, and the Grimm's movements stopped, the body rapidly sublimating into nothing, black smoke drifting into the sky.

Nolan gave out a sigh of relief, staggering back. He stood there, his hands shaking from the rush of adrenaline. He shook his head, the gunshots ringing in his ears, and his knees were weak.

He heard, at that moment, a small, tinny voice coming from behind him. Farah had come home early, due to this being the first day of the week at school. She stood now at the edge of the property, looking at her brother.

Nolan turned, a smile beginning to cross his lips...before the blood in his veins froze.

The Creep had not come alone.

Rising out of the shadows behind Farah, like the mist off of the surface of a lake, was another Grimm. This one was far taller, almost 7 feet. It had long, lean limbs, corded muscle rippling under black fur. Ghostly white spikes rose out of it's back and forearms, jagged and thick like broken bone. Its head resembled the skull of a wolf, with a long, powerful muzzle and giant, protruding canines. The red markings on it's head were far more ornate, and it's eyes glowed with the same beastial hate and rage.

A shadow fell over Farah, and, turning, she saw, for the first time in her young life, a real Grimm.

She screamed.

"Farah, run!" Nolan shouted, fumbling two more rounds into the shotgun.

Still screaming, Farah fell down, crawling away from the Beowulf. The massive creature, meanwhile, stood over her, drinking in her fear. It gave a loud roar, scaring the birds from the nearby trees, and raised a single, massive talon, intending to strike down the young human girl.

"No!" Nolan shouted. Time seemed to slow, and Nolan could see every detail around him in stunning clarity: the tears flowing from Farah's dusty pink eyes, the sun glistening off the Beowulf's white talons, the slobber hanging from the snarling maw.

He raised the shotgun to his shoulder, not even thinking about the action itself. Time passing by almost painfully slowly, he took aim, letting out a bated breath, and squeezed both triggers, flinging dual slugs of death from the barrel.

Time resumed its course, and Nolan saw the bullets impact the Beowulf. One of them hit it's eye, gouging it out. The other, meanwhile, bounced harmlessly off of it's skull plate.

The Beowulf howled in pain, staggering back and clutching it's eye, black smoke leaking out from between its fingers. Taking advantage of the distraction, Nolan pumped his legs faster, practically flying over the ground. Without stopping, he scooped Farah into his arms, almost stumbling from the sudden weight.

Numbly, he realized that the house was too far away to escape to before the Grimm recovered. Desperate for options, he searched around him, spying, close to the edge of the property, next to the pasture, an old, crumbling barn, where he and Farah could seek shelter.

Executing a tight turn and slinging his sister onto his back, he began to run towards the barn. Behind him, he heard the Beowulf give a howl of rage and give chase. Glancing back, Nolan realized that it was rapidly closing the gap between them. At this rate, they wouldn't make it.

He watched hopelessly as the Beowulf closed the gap between them. It leaped forward, one claw raised for the kill. Nolan closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable stab of pain. The Beowulf roared.

And it received an answering roar in return.

Nolan felt a rush of air behind him, as a great mass displaced it. The beowulf gave a howl of rage and pain, once more.

Glancing back, Nolan saw, behind him, Horny the Bull. In their rush, the Beowulf and it's prey had passed perilously close to the herd, and the bull was now in a protective frenzy, a ton of muscle and sinew slamming into the elder Grimm like a truck.

Red eyes glared at black ones as the Bull and the Beowulf circled each other, looking for an opening. The Bull snorted and pawed the ground, charging forward. The Beowulf charged as well, and the two met in the middle, horns gouging, claws rending, black and red blood staining the green grass.

Nolan and Farah skidded into the barn, and picking a random stall, Nolan carried them inside. He set Farah against his knee, leaning back against the wood. She began to cry, and hurriedly Nolan clamped his hand over her mouth, silencing her. He leaned out, observing with bated breath the fight between the two titans.

Both were bloodied and battered. They charged and clashed again and again, but it was becoming clear who would win. The Bull stood still, it's legs bloodied from repeated being gouged. One eye was shut, blinded by one of the claws. It was visibly weaker in every way.

The Beowulf circled it now, growling and snapping at it. Finally, with one last roar, the bull charged.

The Beowulf waited until the Bull was within' reach. Then, gripping its horns, the beowulf turned and heaved, swinging the bull and drawing it off-balance. The Bull landed with a hard _thud_ on the ground. The beowulf placed one foot on it's prey triumphantly. Gripping both horns, the Beowulf twisted with all it's might.

A savage crack, followed by the wet tearing sound of flesh, echoed through the pasture. The Beowulf held its prize aloft, and gave a roar that shook the very timbers of the barn, black smoke drifting from its body.

Nolan ducked back into the barn, holding his little sister tight. Farah merely stood forward, unblinking, soft sobs racking her body.

Then, there was a great, heavy breathing, and Nolan recalled, dimly, his lessons at school.

Grimm could smell fear. And here, in his hands, he held a small, quivering child, scared out of her tiny mind.

Despite his attempts to assuage it, his own fear began to grow and fester within' him, until he could no longer breathe. All the while, the heavy breathing and steps grew closer and closer.

He gripped the hay behind him, searching for anything to fight back with, finding only a pebble.

 _A pebble?_

Hope briefly flared again in Nolan's heart, and, gripping the pebble, he leaned back, searching the entrance.

The Beowulf had its back turned towards him, seeming to smell the air. Drawing back his shoulder, he threw the pebble, not aiming for the Beowulf, but for the trees in the forest. The pebble whistled through the air, striking the bark of a tree.

The Beowulf turned towards the sound, its ears swiveling out. It ran out of Nolan's sight, it's footsteps and breathing fading away.

Nolan waited for a minute, before leaning back and letting out a breath he hadn't know he had been holding.

Suddenly, the wood to his left exploded outward, a massive, black talon emerging from it. Shielding his eyes from the splinters, Nolan threw himself and his sister left, as the hole began to rapidly widen, the Beowulf having returned.

He scrambled away, towards the back of the barn, Farah next to him. The Beowulf tore through the wall, blocking the exit and their only method of stalked towards the two of them, snarling, black smoke drifting from multiple wounds on it's body, fur matted by blood.

Nolan berated himself for leading the two of them into the death-trap. It probably would've been better for them to run back to the house. But now, here they were, trapped and about to die.

Rage boiled inside him, and he glared at the Beowulf. Snarling as it smelled his rage, the beowulf continued forwards, gnashing the air.

Farah and Nolan stepped back, until their backs hit the back wall. Farah hugged his arm, and Nolan's hands roamed, desperate for any kind of weapon, when his hands found, obscured in the old hay, a long, black tube, rusted, but still functional.

With a final roar, the Beowulf charged forward, even as Nolan thrust his last resort at it.

Inside the old baton, however, was an ancient, high-quality Dust crystal, of the Lightning variety. Even after all these years, it had never lost it's charge, and, coming into contact with Nolan's Aura, it flared to life.

White-blue electricity arced between the poles of the prod, much more powerful due to the extra strength of Nolan's Aura, which was itself augmented with his rage. The smell of ozone and burning flesh filled the barn, electricity running through the Beowulf's body. The prod landed in the Beowulf's only remaining eye, punching through to its primitive, hate-filled brain. The Beowulf stopped, it's body convulsing. It stood up, staggering back, clawing itself even as its own convulsions tore it to shreds. The mighty Grimm fell back, landing on the ground, and, with one last jerk, it died, its body turning to black smoke.

Nolan stared, stunned with disbelief, at his handiwork. His hand fell limply to the ground, the baton rolling out of his grip.

Now, Farah felt like it was safe to begin crying again, and buried her head into her older brother's chest, weeping and babbling wordlessly.

Smiling tiredly, Nolan brought his hand up, and patted her back, letting her let it all out.

"Shhh, shh…" he murmured. "It's okay, little one. You're okay. Everything is going to be fine, okay? The Big, bad wolf can't hurt you anymore."

"You're okay."

…..


End file.
